If he made a break east, away from the B-2’s course, then the squadron might follow him, giving Jack and Martin the precious time they needed to get over the border. After that, his colleagues would be in Allied airspace, and less likely to be blasted out of the sky. They would still be actively pursued, but even a stolen B-2 was still worth $22 billion, and Allied forces would be far more hesitant to destroy it than the Pakistanis would.

Choosing this over the array of tactical options his mind was giving him, Shahim decided not to respond to the repeated calls from his squadron leader, well, not in words, at least, and instead he jerked his plane hard right, accelerating as he did so. Let’s see what this thing can do, he smiled, as the jet powered away, the thick blue flame focusing to a needle point as his afterburners kicked in.

* * *

“Central, this is Pelishar One, he is breaking formation, banking hard right. I am pursuing. Shit, he has engaged his afterburners while still in the turn. This guy is crazy, Command.” Then, flicking his comms to include the rest of his squadron, he went on, “Pelishar Squadron this is Squadron Leader, break hard right, now, get on my tail. Pelishar Four is rogue, I repeat, Pelishar Four is rogue. Pursue Pelishar Four. Go weapons hot.” The sounds of the squadron leader straining in the hard turn came over the radio in the command bunker, and General Abashell cursed.

“Pelishar Squadron, this is Command Central, belay that order.” the general shouted into the radio. “Pelishar Three and Five: pursue Pelishar Four on Pelishar One’s point. Pelishar Two and Six, stay on track for intercept with the target. We are registering the fifth detonation. Relaying estimated coordinates for sixth now.” He nodded at the operator and Sergeant Gupta began diligently calculating the next point of detonation.

* * *

“Wait, what the hell?” said Martin in surprise as he stared at the radar screen, “Four of the fighters are breaking off!” he continued, incredulously, and Jack’s head jerked back to his console. He had been diligently watching the horizon for the first visual signs of the squadron and trying to figure out their chances of getting across the border alive. Staring at the radar screen, he saw the squadron separating. What are they doing, he thought?